Connection
by Mimic Teruyo
Summary: There is a broken bridge between the Hakurei shrine maiden and the rest of the world, one that must never be mended.


**_Candour_**

"Reimu! Yo, Reimu!"

Reimu steps down from the porch of the Hakurei shrine and casts at sardonic glance at the descending witch. "What is it now?"

Marisa lands on the ground with a thud and tosses her curly hair over her shoulder. A bright, cheeky grin illuminates her face as she casts aside her broomstick and fishes out a spellcard from the pocket of her apron.

"Check this out! It's gonna blow you out of the water!"

Reimu rolls her eyes, yet leans forward and examines the carefully crafted cards. The illustration is colourful and bombastic, yet done with skill. Marisa's usual fare.

"And why, exactly, should I be impressed by this," she narrows her eyes, "'Starburst Froth' of yours?"

Marisa's grin gains a diabolical edge to it. "Only one way to find out. Three against three?"

Reimu raises her hands in mock exasperation. "Duelling first thing in the morning? I only just woke up."

"Should've done what I did! I didn't wake up at all!" Yet Reimu sees no bags under Marisa's eyes. It's no surprise. What would the witch be without fibbing, even when the lies are pointless?

"And give up my sleep for what exactly? Nightly patrols over the forest? Courtyard-sweeping by starlight? Should I go and howl at the moon with the wolf youkai?"

"Why not? Seriously though, snooze when you want, but at least fight me now." Marisa's pearl-white teeth gleam in the morning sun as her upper lip twists ever upwards.

"Fine, fine," Reimu plunges her hand in her pocket and finds it bereft of spellcards.

Marisa doubles over in peals of laughter. "Gotcha!" She raises her hat and reveals a modest pile of spellcards precariously balanced atop her curly mop. "Thought you'd notice, really. My sleight of hand's pretty rusty."

Reimu rolls her eyes again. "Okay, you've proven yourself. Now fork them over."

Marisa grabs the cards and flourishes them while simultaneously side-stepping to the left, out of Reimu's reach. "Come and get them!"

Reimu feigns anger, and watches Marisa chortle. She is far too accustomed to Marisa's antics to be genuinely irked by them, but at the same time she knows Marisa considers pranks and Reimu's annoyance at them an integral part of their relationship.

She lunges forward and whacks Marisa's head, lightly, playfully, and Marisa yelps and laughs ever more. Marisa may be complex, surely more complex than she presents herself as, but their friendship is simple and straightforward: banter and sneers, followed by general tongue-in-cheek vitriol and finally placid coexistence with no demands from either side. Frank, candid, easy to understand.

And as authentic as magic-made stars.

* * *

**_Innocence_**

Reimu neither pulls away nor leans closer as Sanae runs her fingers through her long hair, sorting out the few remaining tangles, separating individual tresses and tying them into thin braids. Reimu remains motionless, statue-like, eyes half shut, even when Sanae accidentally tugs at the braids with unnecessary strength. The green-haired shrine maiden softly hums a clipped, slightly off-key tune Reimu doesn't recognise. The sound is strangely relaxing.

Reimu doesn't mind Sanae's touch. She really doesn't. She doesn't understand the point, why Sanae finds it so imperative to doll up Reimu's hair for her, but she doesn't question it. It's a childish diversion, but it seems to bring Sanae pleasure. Why deny something so harmless?

Sanae concentrates, her tongue at the centre of her mouth, as she finishes yet another braid. She exhales in satisfaction.

"Red or white?" she asks chipperly, kneading the end of the braid between her thumb and index finger.

Reimu shrugs lightly. "Doesn't matter."

"Red, then." Sanae picks up one of the silken red ribbons strewn on the porch and gingerly ties it around the braid. She leans back and inspects her handiwork.

"About done, I think," she says with a satisfied smile on her face. "Just missing the final touch. No moving while I'm gone, okay?"

She stands up and dashes off the balcony, launching herself into the air with ease and grace. Reimu yawns and leans backwards, her thoughts sluggish and inconsequential. For a moment she is about to doze off, lulled to sleep by a gentle south wind and the torpor of an empty day.

Sanae soon returns, beaming with pride, a long-stemmed white lily gently cradled in her hands. She takes little time in tying it into Reimu's hair, long fingers working deftly with only the occasional slip.

"There!" she exclaims, removing her hands and picking up the old hand mirror lying by the unused ribbons. "See for yourself""

Reimu gazes mutely into the tiny mirror. She looks more or less the same as usual, only with braids replacing some curls and a quickly withering lily sitting on the side of her head like a sulking ribbon.

"Looks good," she says.

"You really think so?"

"Yeah."

Sanae doesn't respond out loud, but the pleased, proud smile on her face tells Reimu everything she needs to know.

Sometimes, Reimu wonders if Sanae really is as open a book as she seems like.

She shifts a little as Sanae sits down, back to back with her. Reimu hasn't questioned the habit. She doesn't care.

"Why did you want to do this, anyway?" she asks to have something to ask.

Sanae shudders, and Reimu can tell she's flushed pink even without seeing. She sighs. "It's okay, you don't have to tell if it's embarrassing."

"It's not embarrassing, really." Sanae fidgets with her own hair now, curling a lock of it around her index finger absent-mindedly.

Reimu waits patiently for her to continue.

She finally does, a little awkwardly, voice a touch lower than the norm. "It's just something I used to do a lot as a kid, and sometimes, I miss it."

"Braiding other people's hair?"

"Uh huh. It was one of my favourite things." An unusual wistfulness creeps into Sanae's tone. "And, well, unlike most things I liked doing back h...in the outside world, this one's pretty easy to arrange here. Only it's childish. Lady Kanako and Lady Suwako don't understand. They think I'm far too old to indulge in something so juvenile."

Reimu closes her eyes and nods. Sometimes, she is amazed this child-like side of Sanae can coexist with the one she's seen dispatch youkai with fervent glee. At that moment, however, she sees no disparity. Even fanatical purity is a kind of purity.

"When I was a lot younger, my mother let me braid her hair for her." There is a twinge of longing in Sanae's voice. "Even when I wasn't very good at it and made a mess, she'd pat my head and encourage me to try again. Her hair was a lot like yours." She breathes in quietly. "You understand, right?"

"Sure." Reimu responds. She isn't entirely sure she does.

"I knew you would." Reimu feels Sanae's shoulders relax against her own as she leans backwards. Sanae's voice is earnest; certain, but fragile. Reimu gets the sense that right there and then, she could break her with the slightest push. "I have no idea what I'd do if you weren't here, really. You're the only one who really understands me."

Reimu says nothing in return. She smiles. Even then, perhaps it's for the better Sanae doesn't see what kind of a smile it is.

* * *

**_Dust_**

November has arrived. Gensokyo hangs in a quiet purgatory between autumn and winter, beneath a sea of grey clouds that have loomed there threateningly for days without as much as a drop of rain. Reimu sits on the porch, cradling her broom in a half-hearted hug, eyes closed, as indifferent to the listless world around as she is to the dust and dead leaves swirling around her feet.

She barely raises her gaze when a large purple gap decorated with ribbons tears through reality mere feet away from her and the elegant form of Yukari Yakumo leans through it, smiling.

"Thought you'd be asleep by now," Reimu mutters. She hadn't been tired, not really, but as soon as she opens her mouth weariness takes hold of her and attempts to push her eyes shut.

Yukari twirls her parasol. "Not quite. I decided rather take one last tour around Gensokyo and grace all my acquaintances with my presence first."

Reimu sighs. "Tea?"

Yukari's lips curl up into a cat-like grin. She inclines her head.

Reimu rises and tosses the broom aside. She retreats inside and goes through the motions of boiling water and preparing the tea leaves mechanically, with flawless routine.

A gap appears by her head and a hand reached out of it to stroke her hair. Yukari's little game. Reimu pays it no mind.

She returns outside, with two steaming mugs on a tray, and brings the more cracked one to her lips. One moment, the other remains abandoned on the tray. The next, it's in Yukari's hand as she gives the drink a taste.

"Passable," she says calmly, tilting her head and lowering the mug. The mug returns on the tray, stil nearly full.

Reimu lowers her mug, too. "So, do you actually have anything to say or are you just wasting both of our time?"

Yukari laughs. "Why, is that any way to treat a friend?"

Reimu laughs back, with a bitter edge to her mirth. "I have friends?"

Yukari's smile loses a few teeth. She brings a long, immaculately manicured finger to her lips. "You tell me. Do you?"

Reimu tilts her head and falls silent, giving the question some serious thought. After a moment, she glances at Yukari. The gap youkai looks fixedly back, with an air of languid amusement, betraying neither intent nor real emotion.

If Sanae is an open book, and Marisa is a book with some bookmarks at least, Yukari is an iron-bound tome yoked in impenetrable chains. Whatever truly lies beneath her mask of a smirk at any given moment, Reimu doesn't know. She isn't sure she wants to, either.

Sometimes, however, she catches a glimmer in Yukari's eye, a slight faltering of lips, a number of tiny hints at the nature of Yukari beneath all her coy trickery. Whether it is the true Yukari or yet another mask is another thing entirely.

Reimu only has two layers. Sometimes she wonders if her inner one peeks through despite all her safeguarding.

She looks away, allowing her eyes rest on the steam escaping from her mug. "Perhaps I do. It depends on how you define the term."

"I see."

Something is strange; the tone is off. It's too quiet, too candid. Reimu looks up dimly, with the strange realisation that Yukari really does see.

Behind Yukari's eyes is something ancient, unfathomable, and terrifying, something that makes Reimu's life seem like that of a mayfly. And yet, right there and then, she recognises a similarity, an unspoken connection, something dark and resigned and necessary that Reimu doesn't have a name for.

"Do you think I've crossed the line?" she asks.

"What do you think?"

Reimu pauses for a moment. "No. Not yet. I should probably be a little more careful, though. Keep a proper distance."

"Precisely."

Then, the moment is over. Whatever passed is gone: Yukari's trademark smirk returns to her lips. Reimu feels her own lips curling upwards into a sardonic grin.

Yukari grabs the hem of her skirt and performs a mock curtsey. Then, with one flick of the parasol, she is gone. Reimu expected as much. Yukari knows to keep her distance. There is no need for pretense like with Marisa, or for an illusion of a connection like with Sanae. There is but the truth, the broken bridge between the Hakurei shrine maiden and the rest of the world that must never be mended and which Reimu will never cross, no matter who beckons on the other side.

The Hakurei shrine maiden cannot be human, not really. She must remain impartial. She must keep humanity at bay, no matter what the cost. She cannot let anyone in, for risk of jeopardising her duties. It's as simple as that.

Reimu understands. She won't complain.

The meaningless smile remains on her face long after Yukari is gone. She sits back down and curls her hands around her tea mug, paying no mind to the secret monster gnawing at her from within.

Rain finally descends, showering Gensokyo with cold, cleansing water.

Reimu looks on for several minutes until the chill drives her inside.


End file.
